


a tale of love and how it finds you

by nightswatch



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Jack didn't go to Samwell AU, M/M, Meet-Cute, NHL Player Jack Zimmermann
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-19 02:18:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9413531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightswatch/pseuds/nightswatch
Summary: Bitty sees Jack Zimmermann almost every morning, but he’s never said a single word to him. Honestly, Jack Zimmermann probably doesn’t even know that he exists.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [appleblossomdean (alatus)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alatus/gifts).



> Based on [this post](http://deancaslove.tumblr.com/post/144064889315/edens-blog-sarcastic-snowflake-so-every).
> 
> @zimmbits thanks for sending that prompt to me. Who would have thought that this fic would get so long.
> 
>  
> 
> Basically, in this fic Jack went first in the draft but he's still playing for the Falconers.
> 
> Sorry if there are a billion spelling mistakes in this, it's midnight, ya feel?

Bitty sees Jack Zimmermann every morning.

Well, almost every morning. He sees Jack Zimmermann on days when the Falconers aren’t out of town and he sees Jack Zimmermann on days when he’s working early shifts at May’s. And those days overlap surprisingly often.

During the off-season, Bitty saw Jack Zimmermann nearly every day.

And even though Bitty sees him all the time, he’s never said a single word to him. Jack Zimmermann probably doesn’t even know that he exists.

*

The first time Bitty sees him, he nearly walks into a pole.

It’s his fifth day of working at May’s Baking Supplies and he feels like he’s about to drop dead. He’s basically crawling towards his next day off, trying to convince himself that he will, hopefully someday soon, get used to waking up for work at the crack of dawn. He gets off the bus, hoping the walk from the bus stop will wake him up at least a little bit and then he turns the corner and there he is.

Jack Zimmermann. In bright yellow running shoes. With a Falconers cap on his head. And blue shorts. That boy is wearing several different kinds of blues and yellows, and paired with a red shirt it’s practically the worst outfit Bitty has ever had the misfortune of beholding. But. It’s _Jack Zimmermann_. The actual captain of the Providence Falconers. Right there.

Bitty assumes that he’s out on his morning run and he just _stares_ for a moment because in Bitty’s world a player like Jack Zimmermann is actually kind of famous. Granted, he’s not Beyoncé, but he’s a Stanley Cup champion and he’s won more awards and trophies than Bitty can count on one hand. He’s a big deal. Maybe he’s not the nicest guy in the hockey world, or at least he has a reputation that he puts the game before everything else, but, well, hockey is his life. Jack Zimmermann is _married_ to hockey.

As soon as he’s regained control over his body, Bitty tells everyone in the group chat. He’s pretty sure that Ransom actually sheds a few tears before he asks, _was mashkov with him????_

Because apparently it’s perfectly reasonable to assume that Jack Zimmermann’s entire team follows him around all day every day, wherever he may go. Still. Providence isn’t exactly a city for celebrity sightings, so Bitty is way too excited about this and arrives at work with a ginormous smile on his face. May is happy that he’s so happy. Bitty is also happy that he’s so happy, because until ten minutes ago he sort of craved the cold embrace of the grave.

So that’s when Bitty sees Jack Zimmermann for the first time. At the beginning of August, during his second week in Providence, on his fifth day of work.

*

 **Eric Bittle** @omgcheckplease

_Providence is definitely growing on me_

*

For roughly twenty-four hours, Bitty is sure that the first time he sees Jack Zimmermann will also be the last time he sees Jack Zimmermann. Unless he goes to a Falconers game. Which he will. Definitely. But that’s not the same thing as seeing him in the street, is it?

Bitty is almost sad that he was so slow to react when he saw him. But what would he have done anyway? Chased after him and asked him for a selfie? The Falcs fans who’ve met him before always say that he’s the loveliest person on the planet even though he always looks so intense in interviews and on the ice, but Bitty feels like he’d be bothering him if he stopped him during his morning run.

The universe throws another chance at him two days later. And the day after that. And the day after– Well, you get the picture. He’s there every morning as soon as Bitty turns the corner, jogging past him. That boy has a strict routine, seriously. It’s like clockwork – Bitty turns the corner and there he is.

Bitty never stops him. He never really has a chance to.

Because, the thing is, Jack Zimmermann is _always_ ahead of him. And because he’s always ahead of him, he usually makes it across the street before the light changes and then he’s gone and Bitty waits at the red light and watches him vanish somewhere down the street.

Seeing Jack Zimmermann and his yellow running shoes is part of Bitty’s life now.

And, okay, this might sound weird, but Bitty is actually a little sad whenever he turns the corner and Jack Zimmermann _isn’t_ there.

*

The frogs come down from Samwell and Bitty takes them to the Falconers’ home opener. Their seats are horrible, Nursey and Dex are squabbling over nachos, but Chowder is pretty much bouncing up and down in his seat.

“I can’t believe you see him in real life all the time,” Chowder says when Jack Zimmermann skates onto the ice for warm-up.

Bitty laughs. “More like the back of his head.”

“Still,” Chowder whispers.

They all squeeze into Bitty’s stamp-sized apartment for the night and Bitty makes them pancakes for breakfast and if he hugs them all for a second too long when he says goodbye to them at the train station, well, they can’t really blame him, can they?

He misses his frogs sometimes.

And when he says sometimes he means all the time.

*

It’s a little over a week later when Bitty talks to Jack Zimmermann for the first time.

Or, he should say, Jack Zimmermann talks to him.

Maybe Bitty’s bus is early, or he’s just exceptionally lucky. Well, he doesn’t feel like he’s exceptionally lucky when he turns the corner and the street is empty. No Jack Zimmermann in two different blues and yellows today, except when Bitty looks over his shoulder, he’s right there, running towards him.

There’s a chance – a slim chance, but a chance nonetheless – that Bitty won’t be the one waiting at the traffic light today.

Bitty has barely turned around when Jack Zimmermann zooms past him. He slows down once he’s overtaken Bitty and says, “I’ve been winning since August, I can’t stop now, eh?”

And all Bitty can do is gape, because, _what?_

“Have a good day,” Jack says, a little breathless and, God, if that doesn’t do all sorts of terrible things to Bitty. And as if Bitty wasn’t on the floor already, Jack adds, “See you tomorrow.”

It happens too fast for Bitty to react. Jack Zimmermann talked to him? Jack Zimmermann _noticed_ him? Way back in August? And. Bitty needs to sit down, except that he can’t, because there’s nothing but sidewalk to sit on. On second thought, the sidewalk might do.

Instead of sitting down, Bitty stops walking and watches Jack Zimmermann, captain of the Providence Falconers, Stanley Cup champion, who noticed him, run across the street, watches the light turn red, and watches Jack disappear in the distance as he always does.

He can’t believe that Jack talked to him and Bitty said _nothing_. Didn’t even wish him a good day back. Didn’t manage to say a single word.

Bitty shakes his head. He needs to get a move on, otherwise he’ll be late for work, but he’s apparently been part of some secret competition that only Jack Zimmermann knew about.

_I’ve been winning since August._

Bitty is _so_ wearing his running shoes tomorrow.

*

 **Eric Bittle** @omgcheckplease

_I just got chirped by Jack Zimmermann y’all_

*

**From: Chowder**

YOU TALKED TO HIM!!?!?!?!

*

The next day, Bitty ditches his Converse in favor of his running shoes. Which are not yellow, because Bitty isn’t a savage.

His bus is exactly two minutes late.

He’s going to miss him. He put on his running shoes specifically so he could race Jack Zimmermann down the street and suddenly the Bus Gods hate him. And Jack probably won’t even notice, because Bitty has days off and afternoon shifts, so this won’t be the first time Jack won’t come across him in the morning.

Bitty’s leg refuses to be still for a second while he’s on the bus.

Even though the Bus Gods hate him, the Traffic Gods, at least, seem to be smiling upon him. When he gets off the bus and turns the corner, Jack is headed right for him. Bitty smiles at him and starts running.

He can hear Jack’s surprised huff, then his footsteps speed up.

Today, they both make it across the street while the light’s still green and Bitty definitely hasn’t been out on a run in a while, and he’s definitely not in the best shape for this, and Jack is definitely at his heels.

Bitty slows down soon enough, because he doesn’t feel like dropping dead today and he doesn’t want to be late for work. Maybe he should show up in his running gear to race Jack on his next day off. Jack nearly stumbles when he overtakes Bitty who’s coming to a halt, chest heaving and, _Jesus Christ on a bike_ , Jack is really handsome, isn’t he?

“This is as far as I can go, otherwise I’ll be late for work,” Bitty says. “And I don’t wanna show up all sweaty.”

Jack laughs and it kind of takes Bitty by surprise. He’s always so focused in interviews. Sure, you’ll see him joke around with his teammates in the FalcsTV videos, you’ll see him smile at kids, and maybe you’ll see him smile in the pictures he takes with fans, but other than that Jack Zimmermann seems like the most serious and single-minded person on the planet.

“I guess you won today,” Jack says, eyes flicking to Bitty’s running shoes.

“Yeah, don’t think I’ll be puttin’ these on to race you every day.”

“Good,” Jack says. “You’re fast.”

Jack Zimmermann is, as it turns out, too competitive for his own good.

There’s still a smile playing around his lips and no one should be allowed to look this beautiful in so many different colors and with sweaty hair and a red face. His eyes are _so blue_. And it’s such a cliché, because that’s what everyone says about him, isn’t it? _Oh, Jack Zimmermann, he’s so handsome, and his ass is the eighth Wonder of the World, and his eyes are so blue_. But they really are _that_ blue.

And his ass is the eighth Wonder of the World. Honestly. Bitty has seen it. He sees it whenever Jack Zimmermann is running ahead of him.

“Well, then…” Bitty says. His voice sounds about an octave higher than usual, which is what thinking about Jack Zimmermann’s ass will do to you, apparently. This is so inappropriate. Bitty shouldn’t be thinking about Jack Zimmermann’s ass at all. But this is exactly like that thing where someone says, _Don’t think of an elephant_ , and then the only thing you can think of is a flippin’ elephant.

“Have a good day,” Jack says. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He smiles, and turns to leave and then he walks right into an old lady who’s out on a walk with her beagle.

Bitty snorts, waves at Jack, and quickly retreats – without walking into anyone – because if he sticks around any longer, he’ll be late. And since he was late for his afternoon shift last Friday, after what he now only refers to as The Great Soufflé Disaster, he really can’t afford to be late again. He just wanted to try something new, but he’s learned from his mistakes. He’s not trying anything new before an afternoon shift ever again.

He walks away to the sounds of Jack Zimmermann apologizing profusely. He’s so Canadian. And his accent… _Gosh_.

*

Bitty doesn’t race Jack again.

But now Jack isn’t ahead of him anymore when he turns the corner, he’s usually coming down the sidewalk. Every day, he runs past Bitty, slows down, and wishes him a good day. Even when the Falcs lost a game the day before.

And every day, Bitty watches him run away and grins. And not just because Jack Zimmermann’s ass is the eighth Wonder of the World.

Sometimes, if Bitty remembers how to speak, he wishes Jack a good day as well. Occasionally Bitty wants to shout something like, _Great game yesterday_ , if he managed to watch it, but he doesn’t want to make this, whatever this is – their morning routine? – weird.

Okay, real talk. Does he have a morning routine with Jack Zimmermann?

He does. He totally does.

Bitty should talk to him. Like, he should actually say hello.

He tries once. He says, “Happy Thanksgiving!” And then he remembers that Jack is Canadian and doesn’t even do Thanksgiving at the end of November and even though Jack doesn’t say anything, because he’s just that polite, and wishes Bitty a Happy Thanksgiving too, Bitty spends the rest of day being embarrassed.

Maybe he shouldn’t try to talk to him after all.

*

At the beginning of December, the Falconers go out of town for five games and Bitty gets the flu.

He spends a couple of days buried under every blanket he owns, watches TV all day, sleeps, eats nothing but chicken noodle soup and tries to figure out if he’s actually about to die or if that’s a side effect of the flu.

Bitty calls his Mama to whine a little bit and she’s actually so worried about him that he has to convince her that she doesn’t need to jump on a plane to Providence, even though he wouldn’t mind having her here with him right now. Because Bitty is terrible at being sick and he really just wants to have his hair stroked. And someone who’s willing to cuddle him even though he’s gross and snotty would be nice, too.

In the end, the only one who keeps him company is Señor Bunny. And the Señor is sadly really bad at stroking his hair.

*

 **Eric Bittle** @omgcheckplease

_not to be dramatic but death would be a gift_

*

**From: Lardo**

Biiiiits u ok

**From: Lardo**

do i need to come down there and wrap you in a blanket?

**To: Lardo**

I have a blanket but can you come down here and murder me?

*

Bitty’s first day back at work starts with him forgetting his phone in his apartment. He misses his bus, the next one is late, so he ends up running to work from the bus stop. He arrives disheveled and wheezing, but on time. Only barely, though.

The next day is better by far, and not only because this time he remembers to take his phone. He runs into Jack Zimmermann again. Or, well, Jack Zimmermann runs past him again. Except today, Jack doesn’t wish him a good day. He doesn’t even run ahead to get across the light before Bitty. He slows down enough that he’s falling into step with Bitty and says, “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I had the flu,” Bitty says. What he really wants to do is burst into song or do a happy dance because Jack Zimmermann is actually talking to him. But the happy dance has to wait.

“Oh,” Jack says, brows knit together, like he’s genuinely concerned for Bitty’s wellbeing. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah, I’m all good.” Bitty smiles at him. “Anyway, you were out of town, it’s not like you would have seen me even if I hadn’t been sick.”

“I got back two days ago,” Jack says, and now he’s frowning. It’s the same frown Bitty has seen in myriads of pre- and post-game interviews. The kind of frown that appears on his face when someone asks him why he hasn’t scored in a while or why the Falconers have lost three games in a row.

It’s not the kind of look Bitty ever wanted to see in real life. And, okay, maybe it’s a bit weird that he knew that Jack was out of town, but everyone who at least sort of follows the Falcs would know that, right? Bitty really, _really_ wants Jack to stop frowning at him like that. He laughs nervously and wracks his brains to find something to say, but Jack is faster.

“You like hockey?” Jack asks.

Or maybe that was why he was frowning? “Yeah, I do,” Bitty replies. Jack couldn’t have known that, obviously.  

Jack blinks at him. His eyes are still _unreal_ , in case anyone’s wondering. “So, uh, you know who I am?”

Again, Bitty says, “I do.” There’s really no point in denying it. Everyone who’s shown a smidgen of interest in hockey in the last couple of years knows who Jack is. Bitty was by no means a hockey expert when he started college, but, boy, did he learn. Ransom and Holster made sure he did.

Bitty spent a lot of time watching Falcs games while he was at Samwell, especially after he’d moved into the Haus. Bitty suspected that Ransom mostly just wanted to see Alexei Mashkov – “I can’t believe he just did that. Bitty. Did you see? Did you fucking see what Tater did? Holy shit, Bitty.”

Anyway. So he knows about Jack Zimmermann. He knows that he went first in the draft and he knows about what the media called a drug problem that was, in the end, something else entirely. Jack doesn’t talk about his anxiety much in interviews as far as Bitty is aware, but he’s seen Jack’s You Can Play videos.

“So you’ve known all this time?” Jack asks.

Ah. Oops. Bitty can feel his cheeks go flaming red. “I have.”

“Huh,” Jack says, and holds out his hand. “Anyway, just to be official… I’m Jack.”

Bitty seriously wishes he could tweet right now, because what do you do when an NHL star introduces himself to you in the middle of the street? Stuff like this doesn’t happen to people like Bitty. Even just an NHL star wishing him a good day isn’t a thing that should be happening to someone like him. “I, uh… I’m Eric. Bittle. Eric Bittle. My friends call me Bitty.” And then he finally remembers to actually shake Jack’s hand and, Lord, this is stressful. “Hi.”

“Well, Eric Bittle,” Jack says and starts running, “have a good day.”

At least today Bitty remembers to shout, “You too!” before Jack is out of earshot.

*

Bitty’s job at May’s is… Well, it’s not what he was looking for, strictly speaking.

He was applying to all sorts of bakeries and cafés, but that obviously didn’t work out for him, since he’s selling baking supplies instead of actual baked goods. It’s not that he’s bad at it. He knows what he’s talking about and sometimes he brings in pies for their customers to try and then he can say something like, “Well, I used that pie dish right over here, let me show you.”

Sometimes he catches May looking at him with little hearts in her eyes.

So it’s not what he was going for, but he’s happy with it for now. He still bakes at home, still posts videos, and his subscriber count is climbing steadily, so he’s actually getting a little money for running ads on his channel. His own bakery is still a faraway dream, but he promised himself that he won’t lose sight of it completely. He’s been thinking about finding a farmers market where he can sell his pies, but for now he’s just trying to get to know Providence a little better.  

He wanted to stay in the area after he graduated, because Shitty and Lardo are in Boston and his frogs are still at Samwell, and going back to Georgia was never an option anyway.

Mama Bittle was happy for him when he found a job just a couple of weeks after graduation – he’d been looking in Boston first and had eventually branched out – but she certainly wasn’t happy that he’d found a job so far away from home. He almost felt guilty. Almost. But he knew that he’d be happier here in the long run. He knew he’d never be able to be himself back home. And he sort of fell in love with being himself in the four years he spent at Samwell.

When his parents asked why he was so keen on staying up here, he said, “Well, most of my friends live here,” and maybe that wasn’t the whole truth, but Bitty really isn’t ready for the whole truth just yet.

Anyway. For the time being, he’ll stay in Providence. His tiny apartment is better than he’d imagined and so is his job. May really is an angel. When he first moved here, she kept asking him if he needed help with anything and she invited him over for dinner and introduced him to her daughter Alice, who also helps out at the store sometimes. And she loves his pies. She watches his videos now, too.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about offering cooking lessons,” she said to Bitty the other day. “Maybe we should think about _baking_ lessons instead.”

It’s not official yet, but Bitty will gladly let himself get roped into it when the time comes.

He could be doing a lot worse job-wise. Only today Alice is sick and May is trying to sort out a wrong order while also manning the register and they’re all out of vanilla extract and approximately a hundred people have asked Bitty for vanilla extract since they ran out this morning. He’s flitting about the store because the entire population of Providence has decided that they need to buy a new mixer today, and the phone keeps ringing back in the office and this whole day is basically a Great Big Mess.

If one more person asks him what’s taking him so long and he has to explain again that they’re short-staffed today, he’ll curl up behind the counter and cry a little. May keeps shooting him apologetic glances.

Bitty will go straight to bed when he gets home tonight, he just knows it.

Between a lady asking if they sell Gouda, which they definitely _do not_ sell, which takes him a good five minutes to explain – “No, Ma’am we’ve _never_ sold cheese here, only kitchen and baking supplies, I’m sorry” – and a man trying to buy his wife a birthday present – How do you explain to a man that a cherry pitter is possibly not the best way to go? – Bitty looks up for like half a second and he could swear that he sees Jack Zimmermann standing outside the window.

When he sneaks another glance at the window a moment later, he’s gone, but he was here. Right outside the store. That, or Bitty is starting to hallucinate handsome hockey players. Which might actually be a side-effect of this mess of a day.

Maybe he was just walking by. He probably lives in the neighborhood, doesn’t he? Bitty shakes his head at himself and gently leads his customer away from the cherry pitters.

*

Bitty almost wants to ask Jack if he walked past the store yesterday by any chance when Jack runs past him and wishes him a good day the next morning. But what if it wasn’t him? Anyway, it would be weird if he asked. So Jack smiles at him and Bitty smiles back at him and fights the urge to stop him and talk to him. Because Bitty doesn’t want to bother him or anything. Jack is busy being one of the top players in the league.

The Falcs go out of town again, and Bitty spends four days without seeing a smiling Jack Zimmermann in the morning. It snows, and Bitty gets grumpy, then it snows a little more, and Bitty gets even grumpier. He’s not much of a snow person, okay? It’s pretty for about three seconds until it turns into side-of-the-road-mush.

Every time the store door opens and cold gust of wind sweeps inside, Bitty dies a little.

And when Jack Zimmermann walks into the store, Bitty dies _a lot_.

He is sorting winter-themed sprinkles into a shelf and nearly drops a handful when he spots Jack. He’s entirely too beautiful to be a real person. “Hello,” Bitty says and Jack freezes. “Can I help you?”

Jack looks around like he’s lost and didn’t even know what kind of store he was walking into. “I… Yes, hello.”

“Do you need help with anything?” Bitty asks.

“I need…” Jack glances over his shoulder. He clears his throat. “A spatula.”

“A spatula,” Bitty echoes. A frickin’ spatula? “All right, follow me. We have a few different colors, do you have any preferences?”

“Uh… What’s your favorite color?”

Bitty looks up at him and nearly says blue. Nearly. “Well, it’s your spatula, so the question is what is _your_ favorite color?”

Jack looks down at his choices – red, blue, green, and black – and eventually picks up the black one. “This one’s good.”

“Great. Anything else you need?”

“Uh, no… no, thanks.”

Bitty takes Jack over to the register – he has no idea where May and Alice are, but he assumes that they’re sorting something out in the office.

As Bitty rings Jack’s spatula up, Jack says, “I was actually here the other day. I mean, I didn’t come in, but I walked by and… I saw you.”

Bitty raises his eyebrows at him, trying not to grin too broadly. “You saw me and then you decided that you didn’t want to come in?”

“No,” Jack says and almost knocks over a stack of recipe books. “Sorry. Anyway, that’s not what I meant, I just didn’t… I wasn’t… You looked like you had enough to do already, I figured you wouldn’t have time to talk to me anyway.”

“Talk to you?”

“I just wanted to say hello,” Jack says. He ducks his head, like he’s embarrassed and it’s almost too endearing for Bitty to handle.

Jack wanted to talk to him.

Seriously, this boy is ridiculous. And cute. Really cute. And straight. _He’s straight, for the love of God_. Still, Bitty would love to talk to him for a little while longer, but there’s a box full of wintery sprinkles waiting for him.

Jack thanks him when Bitty hands over the bag with his spatula. He eyes the table by the counter that May set up for when Bitty brings pie to work. Alice even drew a sign for them – _Try some pie!_

“Do you want a slice?” Bitty asks. “I brought cherry pie today.”

“Did you make the pie?”

“I did.”

“I’ll try some then, how much–”

“It’s free,” Bitty says and grabs a plate for Jack. “For paying customers only.” May put a tip jar on the table for him after Bitty refused to let her pay for any ingredients. He gets an employee discount anyway. He cuts a piece of pie for Jack and sets it down on the table. “Right, well, I actually have to… There’s some stuff I need to take care of, but enjoy your pie, yeah?”

“Oh, of course,” Jack says. “Didn’t mean to distract you.”

Bitty isn’t sure if he’s imagining things, but Jack almost looks sad. “No worries,” he says. “I’ll be done in a bit, but you probably have places to be.”

“I can wait.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jack says and he’s smiling again and maybe Bitty just wants to keep making him smile. “No game tonight.”

“Right,” Bitty says. He knew that.

He’s quick with the sprinkles, but then they have a hoard of people coming into the store, so Bitty doesn’t have time to talk to Jack after all. All he can do is mouth, _I’m sorry_. Jack waves it off and smiles at him one last time as he leaves.

When Bitty empties his pie tip jar later, there’s a five dollar bill in it and he has a pretty good idea of who put that one in there.

*

 **Eric Bittle** @omgcheckplease

_you will not believe who came into the store today_

*

He runs into Jack again two days later. Outside the store. He’s just slipped out the door when he sees Jack walking towards him, grocery bags dangling off his arm.

“Eric,” Jack says and waves, bags swaying.

“Hi, Jack.”

Jack comes to a halt and they spend and embarrassingly long time just staring at each other. Or maybe Bitty is staring and Jack is weirded out by it. Although that boy has got a damn good poker face, so Bitty can’t be sure.

“Headed home?” Jack asks.

“Yeah,” Bitty says. “Well, to the bus stop anyway.”

“Do you mind if I walk with you?”

“Oh, sure, that’d be nice.”

Bitty has no idea what his face is doing, but it probably looks ridiculous.

Look. He still isn’t so sure what to think about all of this. Because what do you do when an NHL star wants to walk you to the bus stop? Bitty has no idea how he ended up here. Sometimes he wonders why he is the one Jack decided to enter some unspoken competition with; it could have been literally anyone else.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you… Your pie was great. I was gonna pay you another visit but,” Jack shrugs, “work was busy.”

“Yeah, you’ve been busy winning a lot.”

“We’re having a good streak, yeah.”

“And I guess you’ve also been busy scoring a lot.”

“I mean, it’s definitely a team effort, we’ve all been working hard and everyone’s been great these past two weeks.”

“Jack,” Bitty says.

“Yeah?”

“I’m not FalcsTV.”

Jack laughs. “Right. I mean, it’s nice that I’m scoring so much.”

“I bet. I saw that game last Sunday,” Bitty says. Jack got a hat trick, the eighth of his career, and the Falconers Twitter has basically just been videos and GIFs of Jack’s goals and of Jack celebrating with Tater and there was an interview that Bitty may or may not have watched several times.

Jack’s eyes go wide. “You were there?”

“On TV,” Bitty says quickly. “I saw it on TV.”

“Right,” Jack says. “You should–” He stops at the light.

Bitty didn’t even notice that they’d made it this far already. He looks up at Jack, waiting for him to keep talking, but he doesn’t say anything. And then Bitty sort of panics and says, “So I’m guessing you live somewhere around here?” Which is so bad, because they barely even know each other and obviously Jack wouldn’t want to tell some random guy where he lives. “I mean, not that I… I won’t show up at your house or anything, I promise. I was just wondering.”

“Oh, yeah, I live in an apartment just down the street.”

“It’s nice around here,” Bitty says. “Well, the bus stop’s over there, so…”

Jack, for a moment, looks like he’s completely forgotten where they were headed in the first place. There’s something about his face, honestly, he has those cheekbones and that jaw, but then his eyes are so soft. And so blue. Bitty isn’t sure if he’ll ever be over how blue they are. And he has great skin. And an incredible– _Oh my Lord_. 

Bitty will not develop a crush on Jack Zimmermann. He will not. Nope. That is not happening.

“I’ll wait with you,” Jack says and his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles.

Okay, so maybe it is happening.

“Are you sure, because…” Bitty nods at Jack’s grocery bags.

“I’m sure,” Jack says. “We never really have a chance to talk when we meet in the morning.”

“Yeah, because you’re always zoomin’ past me.”

“Maybe I’m a little competitive,” Jack says and, gosh, now he’s blushing. “Anyway, you won that one time.”

Bitty laughs. “I did.”

“So, how did you get into hockey?” Jack asks. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

“I’m from Georgia,” Bitty says. “I used to figure skate, but…” But then he got stuffed into a closet and they moved and his coach might as well have lived on the other side of the planet. “Well, long story short, the figure skating didn’t work out for me anymore, but I didn’t want to give up on skating altogether, so I joined a hockey team. I played in college, too.”

“You play?”

“Not anymore.”

“You’re…” Jack is looking at him, obviously trying to find the right words, wearing the face of someone who wants to say something like, _But you’re tiny_.

Which he isn’t, but when he was on the ice he really was small compared to most of the other guys, so he won’t hold it against Jack. “Short for a hockey player, I know.”

“I didn’t mean to–”

“Don’t worry about it,” Bitty says and pats Jack arm and– He just touched Jack Zimmermann. He did that.

And he can see his bus down the street. All right. At least the universe is providing him with a convenient and quick way out. And then he can spend the entire bus ride and the rest of the evening and maybe also the rest of the week being totally mortified.

Jack is completely unfazed, though. “We should skate together sometime.”

Bitty’s bus pulls up and he nearly doesn’t get on because Jack just said that and Bitty can’t really wrap his mind around it. “Okay, sure,” Bitty says, and finally convinces himself to get a move on, “let’s do that.”

“I’ll race you again,” Jack calls after him.

Bitty’s done for.

*

**To: Lardo**

what do you do when you meet the most adorable boy of all time but he’s completely unattainable

**To: Lardo**

asking for a friend

**From: Lardo**

:/

**From: Lardo**

i’m getting on a train to providence, shits is busy anyway

**To: Lardo**

<3

*

“I think I’m drunk.”

“I think I’m drunker,” Bitty says. He’s not _that_ drunk, but he’s on a good way there. Which means he should stop drinking now. He puts his wine glass down with a sigh. Yes, he has wine glasses. Two of them. Like a real adult.

“Brah,” Lardo says. “I’ve been here for…” She frowns. “For several glasses of wine. And you still haven’t told me anything about the mystery boy.”

“You mean the boy who’s as adorable as he is unattainable?”

“Chyeah. That one. Give me all the deets, Bits.”

“He’s so beautiful, Lards. _So_ beautiful. Like, picture the most handsome guy you’ve ever seen… He’s at least twice that handsome.”

Lardo whistles. “You’re a total goner, aren’t ya?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Bitty says with a sigh. “He’s definitely, one hundred percent not interested.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Definitely, one hundred percent sure.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Okay,” Lardo says. She nearly tips over her wine glass. “Look, I can’t help you, because I don’t even know who the guy is but…” Lardo trails off, narrowing her eyes at Bitty. “Why are you making that face?”

“I’m not making any kind of face whatsoever.”

“Yeah, you are.” Lardo grabs him by the arm and her wine sloshes dangerously. Maybe it doesn’t matter, because there’s already one strategically-placed pillow on Bitty’s IKEA couch thanks to a tomato sauce incident. He doesn’t have a kitchen table, okay? “Holy fuck, Bits. Do I know him?”

“Not personally.”

“Huh?”

“So, remember when I told you that I keep running into Jack Zimmermann?”

“Oh, Bits.”

“And remember when I told you that he came into the store?”

Lardo takes his hand in sympathy.

“He said we could go skating together sometime.”

“Wait. He invited you to go skating with him?” Lardo asks. “Like… a date?”

“It’s not like that… I just told him that I used to play hockey and then he suggested it. Maybe we’re friends, sort of? I don’t even know.”

Seriously, is he friends with Jack Zimmermann? How did _that_ happen?

“Okay, but what if it were a date?”

“It’s definitely, one hundred percent not a date.”

“But you want it to be.”

Full disclosure: Yes, he does.

Bitty closes his eyes and tries very, very hard not to imagine it. He doesn’t want to think about Jack holding his hand as they skate around the rink, and he doesn’t want to think about Jack smiling at him, and he doesn’t want to think about Jack pulling him closer and leaning down to kiss him. He doesn’t want to think about any of that. “Let’s not. Anyway, he probably just said that to be nice. I don’t think he really, actually wants to go skating with me.”

“No, don’t say that.” Lardo empties her wine and scoots closer to give him a hug. “Jack Zimmermann would be lucky to go out on a date with a guy like you.” She yawns. “I’m sleeping on your couch.”

“Yeah,” Bitty mutters. “I think I’m also sleeping on my couch.”

*

The longer Bitty thinks about it, the more convinced he is that he will not go skating with Jack. Because why would someone like Jack Zimmermann go skating with someone like him? Jack has other, more important stuff to do. Like, he has to go to practice and he has to work out and talk to the media and he also has to play actual games.

Except when Bitty is back in town after Christmas and he meets Jack, on his morning run as usual, Jack once again falls into step with him and asks, “Do you have a day off the week after New Year’s?”

“Yeah, I most definitely do,” Bitty says. “Not sure what day exactly, though. Why?”

“If you still want to, we could meet up at the rink sometime.”

“At the rink,” Bitty echoes.

“Yeah, have you ever been there for a game? I could give you a ride, too, it wouldn’t be a problem.”

Jack Zimmermann seriously wants to go skating with him. _Seriously_. All Bitty manages in return is some vague sort of affirmation that, yes, he’s been at the arena for a game and he also manages to tell Jack that, no, he doesn’t need to give Bitty a ride.

Jack gives him his number and tells Bitty to text him as soon as knows when he’s free.

When Bitty walks the rest of the way to work, he feels like his phone is about to burn a hole into his pocket, because Jack Zimmermann gave him his phone number. Bitty could text him right now. He could call him. Not that he will, but he could if he wanted to. He’s not sure if he’s ready to have that kind of power. 

He spends the rest of the day in a bit of a daze.

May pulls him aside when there are no customers in the store and whispers, “Okay, Bitty, I’m usually not this nosy, but you look like you won the lottery. What happened?”

“Did you get laid?” Alice asks.

“Oh, shush, it’s nothing like that,” Bitty says and shoos them both away.

He does not want to think about getting laid. Especially not when he’s also still thinking about Jack Zimmermann.

*

**To: Jack**

Good luck tonight!

**To: Jack**

sorry I know this is not what you gave me your number for, you’re probably really busy and don’t have time to reply to texts right now, just ignore that

**From: Jack**

Text me whenever you want, I don’t mind. And thank you!

*

**To: Jack**

You won :)) That OT goal was incredible!!!

*

**To: Lardo**

are three exclamation points excessive

**From: Lardo**

yep he definitely knows you’re in love with him now

**To: Lardo**

you’re not helping

**From: Lardo**

bits you’re fiiiine don’t worry

*

**From: Jack**

I guess you’ll have to send me a good luck text before every game now :-)

*

**To: Lardo**

plz end me

*

Bitty meets Jack at the beginning of January when the Falcs have a day off. He shows up carrying his skates and a stick and an apple pie. Bitty stress-baked so much that he took three pies to work yesterday. People were giving him weird looks on the bus. 

Bitty spends entirely too much time wondering if Jack maybe hates apples and will subsequently hate the pie Bitty brought him. So when he’s actually face to face with Jack, the first thing he says is, “Do you like apples?”

Jack only stares at him for a few seconds. “Yeah, I do. Why?”

“I brought you pie,” Bitty says and holds up the box. “I mean, you probably can’t eat it all on your own, but maybe you can share it with your teammates, or you can freeze a couple of slices, or…” Bitty takes a deep breath. He’s babbling. “Anyway, thanks for inviting me.”

Jack is beaming when he takes the pie from him. “Thank you. Do you want me to give you the tour?”

So Jack shows him the locker room, and he offers to carry Bitty’s skates, and then insists on at least carrying Bitty’s hockey stick when he says no, and he’s way too sweet for Bitty to handle. When they head to the ice, Bitty forgets how to breathe for a second. He puts down the bag with his skates and looks around. All seats are empty, it’s really just him and Jack, and the ice is completely untouched. It’s quiet; there are no fans approaching, no music. It feels like he’s being let in on a secret.

“Nice, eh?” Jack says.

“I can’t believe I get to skate in here,” Bitty says. He glances at Jack. “Can you just say, hey, can I have the entire arena for myself this afternoon?”

“Yeah,” Jack says, all matter-of-factly. “It helps that I’m captain.”

“I bet it does.”

“Oh, by the way, I brought you something,” Jack says as they pull on their skates. He hands Bitty a hat in Falconers colors that he must have been hiding somewhere under the bench. “Gotta have the proper attire to skate in here.”

“Thanks, Jack.” Bitty pulls on the hat. He’ll most likely never take it off again.

The shoot a puck back and forth and Bitty tells Jack about his team at Samwell and that he got voted captain in his senior year and Jack tells him that his mom went to Samwell too, and that he might have gone there if he hadn’t ended up in the NHL.

They race each other around the rink.

Bitty wins. Twice.

And it’s nice. It’s really, really nice, but it’s also terrible, because _obviously_ Jack isn’t holding his hand and he isn’t leaning in to kiss him. Bitty needs to stop thinking about kissing Jack. Or Jack kissing him. Same difference.

Instead of getting lost in fantasies that all involve Jack Zimmermann’s lips on his, Bitty takes off for another race. Jack tries his best to catch him, but Bitty has always been fast. He goes in for a jump too, but he messes up the landing and it’s really not all that impressive. He’s not wearing the right skates for it, but Jack still watches him with an intensity that sends Bitty’s heart racing.

When they leave, Bitty is a little sad that it’s over already. But only until Jack suggests that they should grab a bite somewhere and he ends up in Jack car, listening to Jack’s country music, and suddenly his stomach is starting to do backflips.

This is not a date. As much as Bitty wants it to be, it is not. He has to remember that. Not a date. _Not_ a date.

Jack takes him to an Italian place close to the rink, pays for his dinner – still not a date – and drives him home afterwards and thanks him for the pie and once Jack pulls up outside Bitty’s building, Bitty has ninety-nine problems and Jack Zimmermann is all of them.

“Are you free tomorrow night? I could get you tickets for the game. You can bring friends if you want.”

If Bitty didn’t know any better, he’d think that Jack is trying to murder him. But he’s just trying to be nice, because even though Jack might not look like the nicest guy at first glance, with the intense eyes and the serious hockey talk, he’s also the same guy who gives his hockey sticks to children and who chirps random guys on his morning run and then becomes friends with them and invites them to games. It’s just who he is.

This is not, and will never be, a date.

Bitty sighs. “I’d love to go, but I don’t think I’ll be able to get away from work that early tomorrow.”

“What about Thursday or Friday? We’re going out of town after that, but–”

“Friday should work.”

Jack smiles. “Text me, eh?”

“I will,” Bitty says as he gets out of Jack’s car. “And thanks for today. I had a great time.”

“Anytime,” Jack says, and it sounds like he means it, which just makes it a billion times worse.

*

 **Eric Bittle** @omgcheckplease

_the @PVDFalcs are killing it tonight!!_

*

**To: Ransom**

I don’t know how to tell you this but I might have just met Alexei Mashkov

**From: Ransom**

I HATE YOU SO MUCH RIGHT NOW

**From: Ransom**

was he really really really incredible??

**From: Ransom**

also…… how???

*

“It’s so nice that you’re finally making friends up there, Dicky.”

“Mama, I had friends before,” Bitty says. Okay, maybe his friends are mostly at Samwell and in Boston, but he also had dinner with May and Alice a couple of times. He has friends in Providence. And apparently one of them is Jack Zimmermann.

Bitty spent his Friday evening watching a Falconers game from a seat that he couldn’t afford in a million years. He meant to take the frogs to the game but they had a game of their own, so it was just him. Bitty came home with about two dozen selfies with an assortment of Jack’s teammates (and Jack himself) and a puck from the game. And with a Zimmermann jersey. He’s wearing that one right now. Because he’s pathetic.

“Well, I just can’t help being worried, you’re all on your own and–”

“Mama.”

“Well, you know my friend Deb would still love to have you at her bakery, you know, we’d love to have you back home, Dicky. I just don’t want you to get lonely.”

“I’m fine,” Bitty says. “I gotta go to work, Mama. I’ll call again soon, I promise. Say hi to Coach from me.”

It takes him another five minutes to get off the phone. At least he still makes it to the bus on time, but he nearly forgets to take off his jersey. He has the afternoon shift today and he’s closing up tonight. He’s not even sure if he would have seen Jack this morning, because the Falcs played the Aces in Vegas last night and even though they’re playing in Providence tomorrow, Bitty isn’t sure when they’re coming back.

He’s been at the store for an hour when May finds him in the storage room and says, “Bitty, your boy is here.”

“My what?”

“The cute one with the dark hair who always comes in and looks really disappointed when you’re not around and buys napkins a lot.”

“He what?” Okay, Jack does come in a lot. To buy napkins. And one time a potato peeler. “He’s coming here for the pie, May.” He _always_ stays for a slice of pie. Bitty has been thinking about telling him that he can just have the pie without buying anything. Really, they’re not that serious about the _pie for paying customers only_ rule. Nobody needs that many napkins.

“Bitty,” May says. “I’m really not sure if it’s just the pie. Now, take a break and talk to the boy. Ask for his hand in marriage while you’re at it.”

Bitty rolls his eyes at her and shuffles out of the storage room. Honestly. Jack doesn’t come here for Bitty. Maybe he came here in the first place because he knew Bitty was working here, but that’s not– It’s not what it sounds like. Really. Bitty doesn’t have room for that kind of treacherous hope in his life right now.

He sneaks up to Jack, who’s frowning at a waffle bowl maker. “Hey, Jack, can I help you with anything?”

“Oh, hi,” Jack says. “I’m just looking…”

“Do you want some pie? We have a lot left over today, so…”

“Oh, sure, if that’s okay?”

“Absolutely,” Bitty says and nudges Jack over to the pie table. He cuts himself a small slice too. “So, how are you doin’?”

“I’m all right, just…” Jack shrugs. “The last couple of days were a bit stressful.”

Bitty tilts his head. He’s not going to pry, but Jack looks like he has things to say. And maybe he just needs someone to listen.

“I, uh…” Jack picks at his napkin. “I met an old friend in Vegas and we talked about some things. We haven’t been… We both screwed up here and there and with him living in Vegas and me living here, we never really talked about it. And Kent can be difficult. I guess I can be difficult, too. But it helped, talking to him. I’m glad we got the chance.”

The extremely curious part of Bitty wants to ask what they talked about, but they’re probably not good enough friends for that, so he asks, “Uh, Kent Parson?” Because the Falcs played the Aces and, well, he knows who Kent Parson is, of course. He used to play with Jack, back in the day, before they both got drafted. There are rumors upon rumors and, having lived with Ransom and Holster, Bitty has pretty much heard them all. He doesn’t even want to think about whether or not some of them are actually true.

“Yeah,” Jack says. Then he smiles. “Anyway. It’s good to see you.”

Bitty doesn’t know what to say to that, so he only smiles back at Jack and tries to look like he’s not totally in love with him. It’s getting harder by the second.

Bitty needs to get over this and it would be a lot easier if he didn’t see Jack all the frickin’ time. They constantly see each other in the morning and Jack swings by the store every now and then and Bitty gives him pie and Jack puts too much money in his tip jar, and then Jack gets Bitty tickets for another game – this time for him and the frogs – and he’s just not giving Bitty a chance to forget about him.

And, boy, does Bitty need to forget about him.

*

**From: Jack**

What are you doing tonight?

**To: Jack**

I think I’ll have to stay at the store forever :((

**To: Jack**

because I forgot my umbrella

**To: Jack**

and it’s mayhem out there

*

Bitty glares out the window at the pouring rain. He’s been ready to go home for about half an hour and his phone is nearly out of battery and he has to leave at some point. Although, considering that he’ll be drenched two seconds after he steps outside, sleeping at the store might be a good idea as well.

He didn’t realize that his umbrella was still back at his apartment until May and Alice had already left and Bitty has searched the office and has also considered pulling on a trash bag for the walk to the bus stop, but right now he’s still right in the middle of the pity party he’s throwing himself.

Anyway, the rain might let up at some point soon. Tomorrow morning, according to his weather app. He should just go.

With a sigh, he grabs his bag and his phone, pulls on his jacket and gets the keys so he can lock up and– Jack is outside. He’s dressed all in black, his umbrella is black too, and he scares the living daylights out of Bitty for a second, then he steps closer to the window and waves.

“Jack?” Bitty says, even though Jack can’t hear him. He scrambles for the door and yanks it open. “What are you doing here?”

“You said you forgot your umbrella,” Jack says. He’s holding up a second one. “And I happened to have a couple lying around at home.”

“Oh, Jack,” Bitty says, even though what he actually wants to say is, _I can’t believe you walked all the way here with an umbrella just because I told you that I don’t have one, it’s too much and I can’t deal with this anymore._ Or something like that.

 Jack hands over the second umbrella. “Here you go.”

“Gosh, you’re gonna get so much pie for this.”

“It’s really not a big deal,” Jack says. “Although I certainly won’t complain about getting pie.”

It really is a big deal, though.

Jack waits for Bitty as he turns off the lights and locks the door and then he falls into step with Bitty, headed for the bus stop. This is honestly one of the sweetest things anyone has ever done for him. Just as sweet as Ransom and Holster booking extra ice time so they could help him get over his checking issue and everyone at the Haus chipping in to have Betsy fixed.

This really doesn’t help with that silly crush of his.

They’re halfway to the bus stop when Jack asks, “Have you had dinner?”

“No, not yet.”

“Wanna go grab a bite?”

Bitty should say no, because this certainly won’t help with that silly crush of his either. He should say that he has a mountain of leftovers in his fridge or that he already has plans or that he needs to do the laundry or– Just something that’ll get him out of this. But he doesn’t _really_ want to get out of this.

So Bitty says, “Sure, I’d love to.”

Jack takes him to a place called Eddie’s, some family-owned hole in the wall a little further down the street. Jack obviously goes there a lot and greets everyone by name and Bitty falls even more in love with him. They squabble a bit when Jack insists on paying again. Bitty wins this time.

And this is also not a date, much like that time they went skating together wasn’t a date, so Bitty would be eternally grateful if it could stop feeling so much like one.

*

The next morning, when Bitty’s on his way to work, Jack is once again on his morning run, only today it isn’t just him. And maybe Bitty should just embrace that he’s a nosy little shit, because he walks very, very slowly to make sure he’ll have to stop at the red light.

They stop there, too, Jack and the woman who’s with him, and Jack gives him a nudge. “Hey…” He turns to the woman. “George, this is… Bittle. _Eric_. Eric Bittle. He’s the one who made the pie I brought a couple of weeks ago.”

“Oh,” the woman, George, says. “That was excellent pie. Our nutritionist’s worst nightmare, but still.”

“This is Georgia Martin,” Jack says. “She works for the Falcs. We were just talking about some… work things.”

Bitty barely registers that the light changes to green. Georgia is looking at him with interest and, gosh, she has to know. She can probably see it in Bitty’s eyes that he’s completely, ridiculously in love with Jack. He might as well be carrying a sign. _Yes, hello, my name is Eric and I have a massive crush on this boy._

“It was lovely to meet you,” George says to Bitty before her and Jack are off again.

And Jack, as always, smiles and says, “Have a good day. See you tomorrow.”

*

**To: Lardo**

Jack Zimmermann shouldn’t be allowed to smile at people

*

Bitty is elbow-deep in a pie experiment when his phone starts ringing. He almost doesn’t answer it, because his kitchen is a mess and he’s a mess and everything’s a mess, but no one usually calls him this late, so it’s probably an emergency. He wipes off his hands as best as he can and nearly drops his phone into the sink when he realizes that it’s Jack who’s calling him.

Bitty saw the Falcs game on TV earlier and it was actually painful to watch. The Falcs lost in overtime and Jack looked so miserable as he skated off the ice that Bitty wanted nothing more than to wrap him in a blanket and give him a hug.

“Jack?”

“Hey,” Jack says. He sounds about as miserable as he looked on TV earlier. “Did I wake you up?”

“No, don’t worry, I’m baking.”

“You’re baking?”

“Trying out a new recipe,” Bitty says. “You okay? That game was pretty rough.”

“Yeah,” Jack says. There’s a beat, then, “I was wondering… Are you busy? I know it’s late, but could I maybe…”

“D’you wanna come over?”

“If that’s okay.”

“Of course that’s okay.”

And it _is_ okay, but as soon as they’ve hung up, Bitty is darting about his apartment, putting away clothes and dirty dishes. His apartment isn’t even that big, how did he manage to make this much of a mess? All his clothes end up in a heap on his bed, the dishes go in the sink and that’s really as good as it gets.

It doesn’t take Jack all that long to get to Bitty’s apartment. He’s just thrown one last plate into the sink when the doorbell rings. A moment later, Jack comes trudging up the stairs in his suit, wet from the rain that’s been pattering against Bitty’s windows for the past two hours.

“Hey,” Bitty says and pulls him inside. Jack still looks miserable. Which is why Bitty thinks it’s a good idea to give him a hug.

He’s hugging Jack Zimmermann. He makes a mental note to tell Lardo that Jack Zimmermann shouldn’t be allowed to hug people either. He hugs Bitty back and Bitty ends up with his face pressed into Jack’s suit jacket and this was actually the worst idea Bitty has ever had.

“Thanks,” Jack mumbles.

“Sure thing, sweetheart,” Bitty says– Wait a second. “I mean. I just say that… to everyone. All the time, it’s just a thing that I do, I didn’t–”

Jack lets go of him, but he’s smirking. “Bittle. Take a deep breath.”

“Sorry,” Bitty says and takes a step back. “Can I get you anything? Coffee, or…”

“I’m good.”

“Do you wanna help me with my pie?”

“I’ve never made a pie, but–”

“Well, then it’s about time,” Bitty says and ushers Jack into the kitchen.

Jack takes off his jacket and Bitty ties off his apron and hands it to Jack. And then Jack rolls up his sleeves and that’s. just. not. fair. Bitty walks Jack through making pie filling and Jack takes care of the lattice, smiling at Bitty when he says, “I’m ruining your pie. Look at this, it’s awful…”

“You’re doing fine,” Bitty says. It’s wonky, but it could be worse. And the pie crust was an experiment anyway, which is what he also tells Jack.

“Do you conduct pie experiments a lot?”

“All the time,” Bitty says. “I sort of have a vlog. About baking.”

“Oh?”

So Bitty tells him about the vlog while they’re waiting for their pie to bake, but he makes Jack promise that he won’t go and look for it. Because he might have mentioned Jack in a video or two. Not by name, but he said something about the boy he keeps meeting when he walks to work in the morning. He might have also mentioned that he has a massive crush on that boy. And now he’s also glad that his Mama promised that she wouldn’t go looking for his vlog.

They eventually end up on Bitty’s IKEA couch, which is really small all of a sudden now that Jack’s sitting on it.

Bitty decides to ignore that as best as he can and introduces Jack to Chopped. He has to give Jack credit for not falling asleep a few minutes in, because Jack just played a hockey game that went into overtime and he keeps trying to hide his yawns. He’s also really close to Bitty. Like, really close. Their arms are touching.

Bitty jumps up when the oven timer goes off, quickly takes the pie out of the oven, and makes sure that there’s at least a couple of inches between him and Jack when he sits back down.

“Wanna keep watchin’?” Bitty asks.

Jack doesn’t reply right away. He glances at Bitty, then at the TV, then at his feet, then back at Bitty. “Can I tell you something?”

Bitty turns off the TV. Whatever Jack wants to talk about probably isn’t the sort of thing that needs a paused episode of Chopped in the background. “Yeah, of course.”

Jack shifts in his seat and says, “Bitty.”

Just _Bitty_. He’s not sure if Jack has ever called him Bitty before. It’s always been Eric, or Bittle, never Bitty. “Jack?”

Jack takes a deep breath. He’s nervous, clearly, and Bitty almost wants to take his hand. “When I first came into the store”  Jack says, “I didn’t really need a spatula. And I also don’t really need two potato peelers. And I have more napkins than I’ll ever be able to use in my entire life. And I guess what I’m trying to say is… I came in because I wanted to see you. And I didn’t even realize why I wanted to see you and then my dad called after the game and I– I don’t know if I’m saying this right.”

“You’re saying…” Bitty _thinks_ he knows what Jack is saying, but then again that might just be wishful thinking.

He’s really close to Jack again. A lot closer than before. They’re the _we’re about to kiss_ kind of close. Bitty does take Jack’s hand now and Jack reaches up to trail his fingers down the side of Bitty’s face.

“Is this okay?” Jack asks.

Bitty isn’t even sure what _this_ is, but he’s totally on board with it. “Yeah,” he says, “definitely okay.”

Jack closes the distance between them and while ninety-nine percent of him is freaking out, the remaining one percent thankfully reminds him to kiss Jack back. Bitty sighs into the kiss when Jack pulls him closer and Bitty’s fingers curl into Jack’s shirt, holding on.

He’s not dreaming.

This is real and Bitty never ever wants to stop kissing Jack.

*

 **Eric Bittle** @omgcheckplease

_:)_

*

**From: Lardo**

omfg what did you do

**To: Lardo**

:))))

*

“Bits…”

Bitty groans and rolls over. His alarm hasn’t gone off yet, which means that he doesn’t have to be awake yet. He pulls at the sheets. They’re soft, much softer than his. Jack’s sheets.

He’s not sure if he’ll ever get used to waking up in Jack’s bed. It’s huge. And a billion times more comfortable than Bitty’s. And most of the time it also has Jack in it, which is the main advantage of it.

“Hey,” Jack says, his voice low. Bitty blinks and rubs his eyes. Jack is looming over him, smiling softly. “Morning, Bits.”

“Hmm, are you leavin’ for your run?”

“I just got back, actually,” Jack says. Bitty must have slept right through Jack getting up. “I’m off to practice. There’s coffee in the kitchen.” Jack leans down to give him a quick kiss. “Enjoy your day off.”

Bitty pulls at Jack’s shirt because he wants another kiss and Jack complies easily.

Jack kisses his cheek, too, then his forehead. “Have a good day,” he whispers against Bitty’s temple. “See you later, Bits.”

“See you later, honey.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are very much appreciated!
> 
> I'm @zimmermaenner on tumblr if you wanna say hi :)


End file.
